


start keeping score

by honeypottrap



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: "true or false: you turned on all the lights when you woke up", Frenemies, Gay Chicken, Humor, M/M, Miscommunication at its finest, jerking off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-18 13:14:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15486558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeypottrap/pseuds/honeypottrap
Summary: “Oh, sorry,” Mitch says, wide eyed and not sounding apologetic in the slightest. “Sorry, did I wake you up by makingtoo much noise?”Zach’s jaw drops.“God, I must be a terrible roommate, disrupting your sleep like that,” Mitch continues, faux innocence on full blast.





	start keeping score

**Author's Note:**

> at the accusation that i dropped all my other wips to write this, well. to quote a majorly flustered zach hyman;  
> "false, that is,, false. that is a lie. uhhhhh, thats false, fersure. he'd like to think otherwise,,, but that is false."  
> (that & the frenemies thing are real & come from his leaf to leaf on lnn! the gay chicken is less real.)
> 
> this is the worst roommate communication of All Time. suspension of disbelief is required re: jerking off in the same room & seduction via dick

It’s been a really long night, ending with an unsatisfying shootout loss against Tampa, so Zach is more than relieved to make it back to the hotel room and crawl into bed. It’s not home, and the beds are a little loud, but it’s dark and cool and soothing against his aching muscles. Even better, that the sooner tomorrow comes, the sooner they’ll be back in Toronto and he’ll have his own bedroom-- won’t instinctually have to listen for the click of the door unlocking, of a quiet body slipping in. Zach doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to it.

He’s just on the edge of sleep when Mitch gets back, pushing the door open to slam against the wall. He doesn’t say anything, just turns on the obscenely bright lamp and starts rummaging through his suitcase, and while Zach _really_ doesn’t want to be the one to start something, he’s already a little ticked off.

Mitch had snapped at him this morning for ‘disrupting his sleep’, even though his own alarm had been ten minutes from going off, and their bickering had turned breakfast into a sour affair, with Mitch no doubt complaining about to Willy, who had nodded seriously in between shooting Zach amused glances.

“How are you finding it _this hard_ to coexist with the friendliest guy on the team?” Brownie had asked while Zach glared into his omelet, and a proper response had eluded him at the time, but Zach definitely has one, now. In simplest terms, Mitch Marner is petty as fuck. It’s hard to come up with a reason for his current actions beyond a mission to make Zach as miserable as possible, so Zach isn’t exactly congenial when he opens his mouth.

“Could you _please_ turn the fucking light off?” He grits out, throwing an arm over his face and rolling over to face Mitch.

“Just a _second_ , I’m looking for something.” Mitch hisses under his breath, immediately bitchy, and Zach absolutely doesn’t want to get into _that,_ especially not post-loss, so he bites back a retort. He _does_ grumble something a little nasty under his breath, stuff his head under a pillow, but Mitch eventually switches off the lamp, stomps off to the bathroom, so Zach considers it a win, or at the very least a stalemate.

He wakes up a indiscriminate amount of time later, groggy and confused, so it takes a few seconds to realize that the lights are off, and the thing that woke him up was-- well.

Mitch takes another shuddering breath, overwhelming in the quiet room. Zach steadfastly does _not_ open his eyes, knows he’d just see Mitch’s hand moving under the covers, fucking-- _stroking himself_ , Zach guesses, approximately 4 feet away from Zach himself.

He’d woken up with a mild semi, which would normally be a non-issue, but as Mitch gets louder, it becomes more and more of a problem. He’s not _trying_ to think about it, really, but his brain is helpfully reminding him of the way looks in the showers, of the way Mitch would probably look right now if the lights were on, red and panting, so by the time that Mitch spills into his hand (with a low, breathy moan, no less), Zach’s uncomfortably hard.

Mitch’s breath evens out into sleep pretty quickly, leaving the room quiet again, and Zach takes a few long moments to stare up at the ceiling, talk himself down. Unlike whatever Mitch thought, a roommate being asleep is far from an excuse to get off, _especially_ if the other guy ends up waking up, seeing him, and--

Nope. Zach’s trying to tone _down_ the arousal, doesn’t need the mental image of Mitch’s blue eyes blinking in surprise, dipping lower in interest. He’d probably be a complete asshole about it, too, lips curving into a mean smirk as he taunted Zach for getting off on it.

Needless to say, Zach doesn’t sleep well after that, feeling an impossible mess of turned-on and guilty and a little bit mortified, because, really, _what the fuck_. This has got to be breaking a hundred roommate rules. He definitely has to bring this up later, because no way in hell is that happen again if he can help it.

*

Zach’s still jittery enough by the time he gets up that he doesn’t bother going through his normal morning routine, just hurries to the hotel gym for a quick run on the treadmills to blow off some steam, get out of his head for a while. Mitch’s stuff is packed up by the time he gets back, so the next time he sees him is on the team bus. He squeezes into the seat next to him and gets a raised eyebrow from Mitch in return, presumably for ditching Brownie a few rows back, but Zach doesn’t have a response, suddenly tongue-tied.

Being in public is probably a better setting for this conversation, less room for awkward details. Of course, there’s no _comfortable_ way to bring up jerking-off boundaries with a teammate, so after rehearsing a few times in his head, Zach gives up on formulating the perfect phrasing and dives in headfirst.

“So, um. Last night. You were-- uh. Making some noise, and I. Woke up.” Zach stumbles, all plans immediately flying out the window. Mitch is eyeing him, completely unruffled, and eventually Zach just shuts his mouth. He figures there were enough words that to get the point across, even though Mitch isn’t flushing or giving any sense that he understands that Zach literally heard him jerking off in the same room last night.

Mitch’s phone pings, drawing both of their attentions, and Mitch’s gaze darts down to his fingers, tapping wildly across the screen.

“So, uh. Don’t?” Zach says, then clears his throat, hoping to prompt a response. It gets Mitch to look up again, at least.

“Oh, _sorry_ ,” Mitch says, wide eyed and not sounding apologetic in the slightest. “Sorry, did I wake you up by making _too much noise_?”

Zach’s jaw drops.

“God, I must be a terrible roommate, disrupting your sleep like that,” Mitch continues, faux innocence on full blast.

Zach fights down a wave of annoyance. “Alright, you don’t have to--”

“Now that you’ve brought it up with me, there’s no way I’ll ever do that ever again, especially not, like, _literally the next day_ \--”

“I get it, shut up.” Zach scowls, and Mitch sits back in his seat, looking pleased with himself. He can’t deal with that smirk on his stupidly wide mouth, gets up in a huff to sit next to Brownie, who takes one look at him and immediately decides to keep his distance, putting his hands up in front of him.

“Oh, wow. Chill the fuck out.”

Zach has no idea what his face looks like, but based on the stewing mixture of irritation he feels, it’s probably the farthest thing from calm.

“He’s _horrible_.” He hisses, can’t bring himself to voice to Brownie what Mitch actually did.

“Can’t you peacefully coexist?” Brownie asks, already exasperated. “The road trip’s barely started, just-- rub one out or something, I don’t know. Block out the bad feelings.”

Thinking about his own simmering arousal does not help, unsurprisingly, but Zach seriously doubts that explaining the situation would yield any better advice, so he just sighs and takes out his phone, tries using music to tune out his thoughts. It works well enough.

*

Zach’s still feeling ticked off the next morning, though, and--

He’s not proud of it, exactly, but if he ends up turning on all the lights and getting off in the showers a bit louder and more vocal than usual, then, well. Payback’s a bitch, and hopefully Mitch realizes how awkward it is listening to your roommate ‘secretly’ get off.

He _does_ end up in a much better mood, spurred on by an afterglow (and maybe a little bit of petty vindication), so maybe Brownie’s advice wasn’t too far off after all. Mitch will back off.

And he does-- Zach sleeps through the night, no problem. It’s a huge relief, to not have to worry about antagonizing Mitch over his morning routine again. Sure, sometimes they both get sloppy-- Zach will switch on the bright bathroom lights a bit too soon before closing the door, Mitch might brush his teeth a little too loudly after Zach’s already turned off the lights, but it works. There’s no issues.

*

Dealing with him as a roommate can still be a bit much at times, because he’s loudy and handsy with a nearly nonexistent regard for personal space, but Zach figures that’s mostly a matter of Mitch being Mitch.

Zach’s glad _he’s_ Mitch’s roommate, at least, because thinking about Mitch hanging off of other of the other guys and getting touchy with _them_ is a stressful thought. He doesn’t necessarily need someone to look out for him-- he’s an adult that can take care of himself, but it gives Zach peace of mind that it’s him.

Especially when he’s like this.

“Gamewinne _rrr_ ,” Mitch huffs into Zach’s face with a sloppy grin, breath reeking from the pitcher of cheap beer they’d gotten to celebrate a win against the Bruins. He must be a lot drunker than he looks, because he’s practically sitting in Zach’s lap, a hand high up on Zach’s thigh to keep his balance. “Fucking incredible, man. You should _celebrate_.”

“Yeah?” Zach hums, more than willing to indulge the mischievous glint in Mitch’s eyes.

“We could go somewhere else, somewhere _fun_.” Mitch suggests, like he doesn’t remember they’re in Boston with an early flight home. Mitch leans forward and Zach steadies him with a hand on his waist, biting back a laugh. This is a lot, even for Mitch.

“I don’t think you’ll be going anywhere.” He says with poorly concealed mirth, but Mitch’s eyes light up. The hotel bar is entertaining enough, with the rest of the team in high spirits, at least. It’s good company, having Mitch by his side.

“Back to our room?” Mitch asks, hopeful, and it sucks to turn him down, but Zach isn’t quite ready to head up for the night.

“I was gonna grab a drink with Brownie.” Zach says apologetically, but Mitch pauses for a moment and shrugs, pushes himself up with surprising amount of grace.

“Hm. I’ll wait.” He says and downs the rest of his drink, giving Zach one last smile before leaving, and it’s a small comfort to see him heading back to their room.

Zach messes around with Brownie and Auston for a few more rounds, chirps Willy for his failed attempt at wheeling a Bruins fan. He heads back up to the room significantly more buzzed-- still cheery from the celebrations, but all together drowsy and aching from the game.

“You’re back!” Mitch announces with a grin, popping his head up from where he’d been laying on his stomach on his phone.

“Didn’t know you’d still be up.” Zach comments with a yawn, feeling tired just from looking at the pure enthusiasm radiating from the other bed.

“Um, _duh_ ,” Mitch says, and Zach supposes he has a point. There’s never been a time that Mitch _hasn’t_ outlasted Zach in terms of staying out late.

Zach shucks his shirt without paying too much attention to it, groans lightly when the stretch over his head accentuates the bruise forming over his hip from a particularly nasty hit against the boards.

“I’m beat.” He says conversationally as he falls into bed, shutting his eyes against the light. “Turn the lights off whenever you want.”

It’s not _too_ hard to sleep with it on, and Zach’s feeling charitable-- wants Mitch to be able to stay up and enjoy his buzz.

“Um-- thanks,” Mitch says, sounding a bit thrown. Zach doesn’t respond, already halfway to dozing off, feeling relaxed and loose. Hopefully Mitch’ll take it as another olive branch in their relationship, which is so, so much better than it had been.

Zach’s beyond glad for the ceasefire, for their blossoming friendship. Problem solved, forever.

*

Only-- that’s not really how it goes, because a couple weeks later, Zach wakes up and immediately wishes he could go back to sleep, because Mitch is getting off _again_ , and… using copious amounts of lube. Lube that happens to be entirely necessary, coincidentally, because by the sounds of it, he’s got fingers fucking _in_ , prompting full body grinds into the mattress that Zach-- well. He’s trying not to think about it.

Did he wake Mitch up that morning? He hadn’t thought so. Mitch isn’t making much noise, either-- just light, stifled breaths that suggest Zach’s caught him at something motivated beyond spite. Pleasure? That’s a dangerous line of thought.

Zach has half a mind to make his presence known, because _really_ , there’s no way Mitch is actually thinking this through, what it would actually be like if he knew Zach was awake-- he’s way too polite to embarrass Mitch, but also, _fuck_ , where are this guy’s boundaries? Mitch finishes with a deep exhale, but still. Zach’s a light sleeper, and beyond that, he’s not sure if this is a secret he’s supposed to keep or _what_ , because that’s-- pretty weird. It’s beyond chirping material, really. Material with ruinous potential, in the locker room and beyond.

And Mitch should know he can trust Zach, especially with how usually-easy rooming with him is now, but this is way, way too much. It’s a little dizzying-- the fact that, once again, Zach’s about to have the getting-off conversation with his road roommate. It’s not any easier to think about the second time around.

Mitch’s groggy face greets Zach at breakfast, but he brightens considerably when he sees Zach. Zach chews on the inside of his cheek, conflicted about bringing it up (maybe it’d shame him into stopping?) until Mitch gives him a jaunty wave and gestures him over.

“Hey, roomie! Sleep well last night?”

“I-- no.” Zach pauses, frowning at the suggestive glint in his eyes, at the way he didn’t even have to bring it up. “Not at all, actually. You--”

“Aw,” Mitch says, drawing out the sound as he fakes a pout. “You didn’t like it?” he asks, making a crude gesture with his hands-- he’s legitimately miming fingerfucking himself while less than ten feet away from another guest. Fucking hell.

“ _Stop that_.” Zach snaps, grabbing at Mitch’s hands and forcing them down by his sides.

“Mm. Whatever you say,” Mitch hums, faking disappointment, and Zach manages to find other people to talk to for the rest of the morning while talking down a semi that may or may not have been brought on by Mitch Marner acting like a third grader who just learned about sex.

*

It’s especially ridiculous, then, that he’s getting flustered staring at Mitch’s hands while he tapes his sticks later that day, which of course means that he gets caught. Perhaps more than once. It’s hard to look away.

Mitch ends up wiggling his fingers in a mocking wave to get his attention, and while Zach tears his eyes away to stare at his own skates, it’s not quick enough to avoid the way Mitch’s smile turns a little lecherous and a little mean as he hops to his feet, making his way over to Zach’s stall. _Fuck_.

“This is what it takes to get you riled up? Aw, no wonder last night got you so bad,” Mitch croons, and Zach glares at his laces, stringing them tighter in quick, jerky motions. “I didn’t realize.”

“ _Don’t_.” Zach mutters under his breath, warning. He didn’t make it through years of junior hockey only to get hooked on the first scrawny road roommate he got in the NHL. This is-- temporary. He’s stronger than this.

“Hey, hey-- don’t worry about it.” Mitch says placatingly, though Zach doesn’t feel very soothed. “You want to watch? I don’t mind.” he continues with a shit-eating grin that stays fixed in place even as he leaves to finish his tape job, which Zach makes a careful point not to watch.

Not that it does him much good, because near the end of morning skate, Mitch catches Zach’s eye and mimes stroking his stick. It’s just the start of more immature bullshit that has Willy laughing and Brownie raising an eyebrow when Mitch smacks his own towel-clad ass as he flounces past Zach.

“I thought you were over this?” Brownie stage-whispers to Zach.

“You and me both.” It comes out sullen as Zach exhales through the spike of irritation, trying to will down the dark flush he knows is creeping up his neck.

“Can’t you two just be normal? Like, Auston gets the lights and I set the alarm. That’s our thing-- you guys should get a thing. _Not_ ,” Brownie raises his voice, catching Zach with his stick mid-jab, imagining Mitch’s ankles. “Not whatever-this-is.”

“He--” _started it_ , Zach thinks, but doesn’t bother finishing his sentence, because he survived Michigan. This level of provocation is pretty minor in comparison, though it _is_ much more targeted, more personal. He should really have thicker skin than this.

Brownie doesn’t bother responding, utterly unimpressed. Zach knows the feeling.

“Yeah.” Zach sighs. “I know.”

*

So, Mitch knows about the wanting-to-bang-him thing, about the getting-off-on-him-getting-off thing. Worse things have happened in the grand scheme of things. He'll get tired of rubbing it in, hopefully won’t continue to use it as leverage against him.

The only thing that really works against it is playing back, which, beyond being a good strategy, is a bit self indulgent. They’re bickering over nothing, out at lunch with the team-- Zach’s nitpicking Mitch’s take of the Stars’ power play, mostly for the sake of wiping the cocky smile off Mitch’s face, but to be fair Mitch readily rises to the bait, an angry flush to his cheeks.

Mitch flips him off, and Mo frowns at them, looking like he’s a couple steps away from attempting to get them to talk it out. That would unearth some issues that Zach’s not too keen on disclosing, so he quickly covers his hand with his own, a heavy weight over the table. It has the surprising effect of throwing Mitch off-- makes him stumble his next sentence, effectively ending their argument.

That’s what it takes, then? This, Zach can do. It’s a heady power. Just act unphased.

They get a couple of raised eyebrows when Zach brushes lightly over Mitch’s knuckles in a parody of tenderness. It’s strictly a strategic move to stop the trail of Mitch’s foot over his calf-- he was undeterred by kicking, apparently, but that move coupled with Willy’s unsubtle wink has Mitch frozen in his seat.

Well, frozen by Mitch standards. The incessant jostling of his knee under the table continues long after, only stopping when Zach gets up to wash his hands. Mitch is waiting in the hallway when he gets back, and Zach nearly bumps into him.

“Oh, sorry--” Zach says, automatic, but instead of moving away Mitch pulls him in, hooking fingers over his waistband. Zach’s stomach burns when Mitch’s nails brush over the vee of his hip, and he takes it upon himself to pull Mitch’s hands up, ignoring the dizzying tilt of the room.

“Uh, what are you doing?” Zach asks, trying not to be affected by how close they are. He glances behind him, half expecting to see Willy there with a lewd, teasing comment, and Mitch lets out a frustrated huff, stepping away.

“You make no fucking _sense_.” He growls, practically, and Zach doesn’t see him for the rest of the day.

Mitch doesn’t bother pretending he’s not slamming the door their next hotel stay, all niceties completely out the window. So much for a reprieve. The word torment might be a little dramatic, but Zach had gotten so used to an underhanded feud that having it blatantly thrown in his face throws him completely off.

*

Letting it go would probably be the smarter thing to do, but there's something about Mitch Marner that makes Zach instinctually stoop to similar levels of immaturity. A good person, for example, would probably accept that he'd been taking too many liberties-- making too much noise in the mornings again and back down, but. There's no way in hell that Zach is backing down from this.

If Mitch wants to be a moody bastard and keep Zach awake, there’s no reason to extend him any courtesies. They've got a long California road trip ahead of them, and regardless of whether mitch knows it or not, it's game on.

Day one, Zach pulls open the blinds the second he gets up, lets that beam of sunlight hit Mitch directly in the face as he goes to shower. Mitch is blinking groggily awake once he finishes, stepping out in just a towel, and Zach doesn’t bother hiding the gleeful smile when Mitch takes one look at him and hides his face in his hands with a pitiful groan.

“Sleep well?” Zach asks, dropping his towel to pull on his clothes, and Mitch makes an aborted glance up, staring at the discarded towel on the floor.

“Yeah. Just great.” He says, voice still gravelly with sleep, and Zach hums happily in response.

Zach's even prepared himself for retaliation-- a pair of earplugs work like a dream the first few nights, though the exhaustion from their games and the jetlag certainly help, and it's _great_ , because Zach's sleeping perfectly and Mitch is woken up early and getting visibly frustrated.

*

Only, there’s a problem. There’s watching porn with headphones on, and there’s watching porn with someone else in the room, but it takes a special brand of crudeness to watch porn with someone else in the room with _no_ headphones on.

Waking up from a combination of lights and scripted sex sounds _despite wearing earplugs_ is a wholeheartedly hellish combination. He’d been wondering when Mitch would reach his breaking point.

This is _ridiculous._ They’re going to get a goddamn noise complaint, from the hotel or a _teammate_ , and Zach will die of embarrassment. Not that he isn’t _already_ , but as long as he doesn’t concentrate on the reality of the situation, don’t listen too closely, he should be… mostly fine.

The girl in the video lets out a high pitched whine, and Mitch snorts, turns his head and mimics the noise in Zach’s direction.

“Okay, right. You can’t seriously be doing this,” Zach exclaims, jamming his earplugs in further to no avail.

“Yeah?” Mitch says, sounding like he’s barely paying attention, and it’s breathy, his voice laced with pleasure.

It’s a lot to process. Zach’s working on not-processing it.

“What are you gonna do about it?” Mitch taunts him, blatantly, and that’s just the thing.Nothing. They both know it. Zach is at his wit’s end, about to snap, and even so, he’s not sure what he _could_ do. What he could bring himself to do.

Mitch laughs in response to Zach’s silence, twists his wrist and lets out a loud, exaggerated moan.

“I swear to _God_ \--” Zach seethes, and he’s throwing the covers off-- is by Mitch’s bed in an instant, covering his goddamn mouth. “ _Shut up.”_

He’s not sure what he’s expecting, really. Maybe for Mitch to lick his hand-- that would be especially gross and on-brand, but instead he makes a startled noise, eyes wide with surprise as he looks up at Zach, his hand still down his shorts with his dick straining against the fabric, and--

Mitch is _into_ it. Oh, this is _interesting_. It explains a lot, really.

He’s still reeling a bit, but Mitch is squirming under his touch and this is a chance he’s not about to pass up. Zach knows what he wants to say, at least.

“ _Aw, I didn’t realize.”_ Zach manages with a smirk, sickly sweet, throwing his words back at him. “This is what you wanted, huh? You should’ve just said so.”

“Fuck you.” Mitch groans once Zach pulls his hand away, turning red, but the fingers of his other hand twitch by his side.

“Is that an invitation?” Zach prods, and it’s impressive, the way he can see the exact time the mental image flashes through his mind.

“Um--” Mitch chokes out, screwing his eyes up, and _God_ , Zach wants to touch him, but it’s not exactly a response. It’s hard to be completely disappointed, though, because Mitch fucks up a few times into his hand and comes with a muffled cry, hips stuttering. Zach takes a few extra seconds to appreciate the view, Mitch panting heavily with a sheen on sweat over his face-- the real deal this time, not imagined or dreamed up.

“Well.” Zach says after a while, and Mitch turns his face into the pillow to avoid looking at him, still flushed. Not so shameless after all, then. “Let me know when you figure out what you want.”

Zach is the one that ends up turning off the lights that night, but he finds that he doesn’t mind doing it.

*

When Zach gets in the shower the next morning, he leaves the door open. Mitch slips in after a couple of minutes, yawning into Zach’s shoulder blade as he reaches around him from behind to turn the water hotter.

“Oops,” he says, voice thick with sleep as he brushes up against Zach's ass, not sounding very apologetic. He doesn't stay drowsy for long, at least not once Zach drops to his knees to blow him, pressing him back into the cool tiles.

“You're up early,” Patty comments once they're both downstairs, and Mitch flushes and mumbles something about it not being too bad after all. (Zach tries not to let it go to his head.)

They win that night, and Zach has a feeling he’s being directed towards a very different post-road-win routine. Just an educated guess, based on the sheer amount of fuck-me eyes directed his way on the bus.

So he’s eager to get up to his room, sue him.

“Not heading out for drinks?” Mo asks when Zach shows signs of breaking off from the group, and Zach opens his mouth, searching for an excuse.

“No, I’m--” He starts.

“Me too,” Mitch says quickly, utterly destroying any degree of subtlety that Zach could’ve tried for.

Zach sighs for appearances’ sake and accepts the high-five from Willy. Waking up in the morning is a lot tougher than usual, but out of all the ways for Mitch Marner to keep him up at night, it’s by far the best.

**Author's Note:**

> Bonus foolishness:
> 
> Willy takes one look at Mitch and starts cackling.
> 
> “So you actually tried _again_?” He crows, clearing his throat after Mitch shoves him. “I mean. I’m very glad you’ve decided to stop being assholes to each other. Congratulations.”  
>  \--  
> “So you decided on _this_ for your roommate thing?”
> 
> “Yeah, we’ve come to an understanding” Zach says dryly. “He turns off the lights and I suck his di--”
> 
> “Enough of that, thanks.” Brownie interjects loudly.  
> \--  
> [dm me on my tumblr :)](https://zaitseev.tumblr.com/)  
> Hope you enjoyed, I'd love to hear what you thought!


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